


Rich Girl, and You've Gone Too Far

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1427452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Kate's fourth meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rich Girl, and You've Gone Too Far

“Wait,” says Sara, following Kate out of the courtyard,  “Who the hell is that?”  Kate’s busy adjusting the strap on this week’s school bag.  She’s going Prada this week.  A classic.  She doesn’t bother looking until Kati adds,

“He’s cute.  Is he a new teacher?”  And there, standing at the bottom of the steps, outside the wrought iron fence, is Clint Barton.  Hawkeye/Ronin, technically Kate’s mentor.  Technically, he assaulted her in a park.  Technically.

“He’s um,” Kate says, flipping her dark hair to buy herself time, “he’s my tutor.  For English.”

“You have perfect English grades,” Sara says.  Kate wrinkles her nose in disdain, which makes Sara turn her eyes downward in apology.  Thank god teenage girls were easily manipulated and intimidated or Kate might have a real situation on her hands, here.

“Clint!” Kate says, voice dripping with false friendliness, “Hi!  I told you I’d meet you at Starbucks!”  Her smile could blind someone.

“Kate-” he starts, which is when Kate slams the school’s gate right into him.  Just to shut him up until she can get him out of hearing range.  He says ‘oof!’ because he’s an adult.

“See you guys tomorrow!” Kate says, quickly breaking away from her group to go to Clint, “I’ll text you!”

“Good luck with tutoring!” Kati adds.  Kate waves her delicate fingers in a goodbye.  Her other hand is grabbing Clint’s arm with a tightness that is making him wince.

 

 

They walk exactly one block in silence.  Well, Kate’s silent, and Clint keeps going, “Hey, Kate.  Hey! Girlie!  I’m talking to you!”  Kate waits for the crossing sign to flash the red hand before letting go of Clint’s arm and shoving him so hard that he stumbles back.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she demands, “Did I ever give you permission to come to my school?  Did I ever even tell you where I went to school?  What the fuck?!”  Clint looks shocked.  Maybe wounded.  She’s not sure.  He’s supposed to be a superhero, right?  Isn’t he supposed to be made of teflon, or some bullshit?

“I wanted to-”

“To what?” she hisses, “Blow my cover?  Maybe I’ll wear my uniform to school tomorrow!  That would be less conspicuous!”  Clint gives her an uneasy once-over.  “What?!” she spits.

“You’re already wearing a uniform,” Clint says.  This can’t be the same guy that she lost her bow to.  Ronin is supposed to be...not this.  Was she seriously afraid of him?  Of this guy?

“You haven’t answered my question,” Kate says.

“Which one?” Clint replies, “there were like, 30.”  Kate tightens her shoulders, her jaw.  She can be scary when she wants to be.  Scarier than an Avenger, even.  He holds up his hands.  “In my defense, no one knows who I am.   It’s not like I’m Tony Stark, or something.”

“Tony Stark would make sense,” Kate says, “since he’s a billionaire, and I go to the most expensive prep school in the fucking state!”

“Am I supposed to be offended, or impressed?” Clint asks.  “I feel like I’m supposed to be offended.”  

 

 

Maybe she’s being too aggressive.  This is their fourth meeting.  The first time, she’d lost her bow.  The second time, he’d given it back.  The third time had been a rather frustrating training session.  So maybe she’s still pissed about that.  But he’s a shitty teacher.  And a doofus.  And he has sandy blonde hair and an unfairly handsome face, which had not so handsomely glared at her as she’d stormed out of their third meeting.

 

 

 

“I wanted to apologize?” Clint says.  

“You couldn’t have called?” Kate asks.

“I did call!” Clint protests, “Like, twice!”

“So logically, the next thing to do is stalk me?”  Clint coughs.

“It’s not stalking,” Clint says. “Your info is on the Avengers database.”

“You showed up uninvited,” Kate says.  Clint keeps doing this, this stupid thing with his face when she insults him.  Like, his eyes get downcast and he frowns just a little, and then he pretends it never happened.

“Clint,” Kate says.  They’re on semi first name basis.  He calls her Kate, and she’d called him Clint in front of company.  Ronin and Hawkeye are out of the question in public.  She could go with Barton, but Barton is a slightly more recognizable name than Clint is.

“Yeah?” he says.  He’s studying her, again.  The way he does every time they meet.

“Why are you really here?”

Clint smiles at her, just barely.  “I wanted to walk you home.”

“You’re kidding me,” Kate says.

“The team,” he says, with a sigh, “has been giving me shit since the bow incident.  They said I was too hard on you.”

“I can handle myself,” Kate replies, as a reflex.  Clint’s smile breaks into something more genuine. 

“Never said you couldn’t,” Clint says. “You stole that bow right back from me.  Fair and square.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there,” Kate says.  Clint’s fingers fidget without him really seeming to notice.  Like a nervous tick.

“I’m your mentor,” Clint says, “And that means I’m supposed to be nice to you.”

“Dude,” Kate says, because it’s the first word that comes to mind in her shock, “I don’t need a mentor.  I learned to shoot all by myself.  And I took the mantle while you were, you know-”

“Dead,” Clint says.  Kate snickers at that.

“Yeah,” Kate says, “you were dead.”  She pauses.  The wind rustles through the city streets, along her legs.  “What’s that like? Being dead?”

“You get used to it,” Clint replies.  It should be sadder.  He’s talking about death, after all“If you never died,” Kate says, “I never would’ve become Hawkeye.”  It’s warm for March.  She’s not sure if she likes it.

“Is that a thank you?” Clint asks.  He’s laughing.  He’s laughing at the idea of it.  Kate wishes she could hate him.  She really does.

She smiles back.  It feels real.  “Sure, Clint,” Kate says.  “Thank you.  For dropping dead.”

“Anytime,” he tells her.  Kate shuffles her feet.  _You’re an enormous bitch,_ the wind whispers.  And she knows.  It’s usually part of her charm.

 

 

“It was my fault, too,” Kate says, louder than she needs to, with her arms at her sides. “I’m the one who thought she was too good to bet $20.”

“That was pretty funny, actually,” Clint says.  “I don’t know many other rich people.”  Kate notices that he’s like, a foot away from her.  He was at least 3 feet away from her when all of this started.  She doesn’t remember moving.

“You know Tony Stark,” Kate says, “he’s richer than I am.  Barely.”  Clint has flecks of green in his eyes.  It’s really stupid looking.

“Do you want to walk me home?” she asks.  He smiles, broadly and honestly.  For a fleeting second, Kate understands why everyone likes him so much.

“I thought you said we were going to Starbucks,” Clint says.  “So I could help you with english.”

“I don’t need help with english,” Kate says.  “It’s called a cover story.  Come on.”  She starts to walk away, heels clicking on the pavement.  He follows her quickly, like a big, stupid dog.

“I wouldn’t be much help, anyway,” he says.  “I never graduated high school.”  He’s walking in stride with her, matching her left-right left-right.  She feels the urge to blush.  She doesn’t know why.

“Least surprising thing I’ve heard all day,” Kate says.  He laughs.

“Ouch,” he says, “You’re a real bitch, you know that?”  He says it fondly.  And he’s not wrong.  She wishes she had remembered to put her sunglasses on, so that he wouldn’t be able to see her eyes.

 

 

“How old are you?” she asks.  She watches their reflections as they pass by store windows.

“Twenty-seven,” he says.  She wrinkles her nose.  “What?”

“You don’t look twenty-seven,” she says.  

“Thanks?” he says.  “You don’t look seventeen.”

“That’s creepy,” she tells him.  He makes a choked noise of exasperation.

“Not how I meant it,” he says.  “Jeez.”  She smiles at her reflection as she passes it.

“It’s fine,” Kate says, “I’m pretty hot.”

“Brat,” he tells her.  She smiles.  She looks at the sidewalk.  Her cheeks are pink, she’s sure of it.

“Shut up,” she tells him.  She elbows him in the side.  He doesn’t break his stride.


End file.
